


The Color of Blood and Rubies

by GallifreyanAtHearts



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, Mystery, detective!frank
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-15
Updated: 2013-10-17
Packaged: 2017-12-26 15:16:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/967480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GallifreyanAtHearts/pseuds/GallifreyanAtHearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank Iero, Private Detective, knows it's probably a bad idea to accept Lindsey Ballato's case, no matter how much money she wants to throw at him.  Trying to prove Gerard Way guilty of theft is asking for trouble, but two hundred grand really is a lot of money...And Frank never had much common sense anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter was beta'd by the lovely Morbid_Beauty. Any mistakes remain my own. I mostly know where I am going with this. Mostly. Also this has the monumentally bad combination of being the first multi-chaptered project I have undertaken in years as well as beginning just as I am beginning college. Chapters might be short and I don't know how often they'll happen. Hopefully they will happen because I am motivated about this one. We'll see how it goes.  
> Enjoy.

The case started, as many did, with a woman.  Frank Iero, private detective, studied her from across the dark red-brown wood of the desk; her hair was black and fell past her shoulders.  Her heavily lined eyes glinted like they held secrets a man like Frank could only dream of.  She was dressed in a dangerously low-cut V-neck blouse, deep red in color, with a black blazer over it and slacks of the same color.  Her lips, full and smiling slightly, coyly almost, were painted to match her blouse.  She looked out of place in Frank’s cluttered office, but also she fit perfectly.  She was too neatly put together for Frank’s mess, but she looked _right_ in the dimly lit room, like she was part of a scene straight out of a movie or a novel.  She brought an extra air of a puzzle waiting to be solved, elevating the chaos of Frank’s office from “messy” to “mysterious.”

Frank waited for her to introduce herself.  He knew from experience that you can’t rush these types, and you shouldn’t say more than you had to, because God only knew what they would do with any information you gave them.  Sure enough, after a moment of demure pause, the woman opened her painted mouth to speak.

“My name,” she began, her voice low and smooth, “is Lindsey Ballato.”  Frank continued to stare at her, unimpressed by the show of obvious sexuality.  She didn’t miss a beat however, and continued.  “Something precious of mine has been stolen.  I want it back.  And I am willing to pay very well for its safe return.”

Frank arched one eyebrow, intrigued for the first time since this Ms. Ballato had first strutted into his office, the heels of her scarlet pumps clicking against the polished cherry wood of the floor.  Bills didn’t pay themselves and bills, unlike clients, were something Frank had a consistent supply of.

“Tell me more.”  He instructed her casually, as if merely giving her a suggestion, not a demand.  He had to draw her out; this had to be on her terms.

“Well you see, my parents were wealthy and when they passed in an automobile accident,” she paused, theatrically saddened by her own words, before plowing oh-so-bravely on.  “They left me a large sum of money.”

Frank nods as if it’s not a story he’s heard a thousand times before.  More often than not the bitches killed the old bastards themselves for the money, or were at least helpful to the process.  That wasn’t Frank’s business though; he doesn’t care how the client gets the money, it just needs to end up in his bank account.

“Included in my inheritance, there was this necklace, diamonds and rubies, one of a kind, and worth well over a hundred thousand dollars,” she continued, “that was my mother’s, and her mother’s.  And it’s gone.”  Frank leaned back in his chair, appraising the woman sitting across from him for honesty.  “Please, Mr. Iero, you come highly recommended.  Can you find my necklace?”  Frank looked up at her from under the brim of his hat.

“Why come to me?  Why not go to the police?” he asked gruffly.  She did not look surprised by the question, but she folded her hands in her lap and leaned forward, deliberately affording Frank an excellent view down her blouse.

“Because I know who the thief is, Mr. Iero, and I do not want him arrested.”  Frank just stared at her; he had heard every plot twist in the book and this was by far not the strangest.

“Do tell.”

“It was my ex-fiancé, Gerard Way.”

Frank sat up straighter in his chair, because that name was trouble if he had ever heard it.  Frank had known that Way had been engaged to a woman, it was common gossip.  Frank would not have been worth the paper his credentials were printed on if he didn’t know that, but if Frank had known that the woman who had sashayed her way into his office was _that_ woman, he would have slammed the door in her face.  The underground ruling was that you didn’t mess with Gerard Way.  Rumor was that Gerard Way had a distinct talent for getting what and who he wanted.  Rumor also had it that Way was a little… _unorthodox_ , and that was why his fiancée had broken it off with him.

Frank stared at Ms. Ballato for a second, out of pure shock, and then quickly dismissed her with a hard “No.”  Ms. Ballato did not look surprised, only determined.  Her full lips set in a resolute line and she narrowed her eyes.

“I can make it worth your while, Mr. Iero.”  Her eyes wandered to the stack of business envelopes on Frank’s desk, bills unopened and unpaid, and he followed her line of sight to the ominous pile.  His resolution wavered.

“How do you know that it was Way?”  He sighed, before adding, “Not that I am agreeing to take the case.”  Ms. Ballato smirked.

“Sure you aren’t.  And it’s simple, really.  The safe where I keep the necklace is extremely well hidden, and apart from that, the lock was not forced or picked or broken in anyway.  Gerard is the only one, besides myself, of course, who knows not only the location of the safe, but also can open it.”

Frank covered his face with his hands.  “There is not enough money in the world to make me go after Gerard Way.”  He sighed, looking up at Lindsey.  “I’m not suicidal.”

“I’ll deal with the consequences.  But you need to recover that necklace.”  She dug into her bag and withdrew two manila envelopes, both stuffed and heavy.  Frank followed them with his eyes as she gently placed them on his desk and pushed it toward him.  “Each of these envelopes contains fifty thousand dollars, Mr. Iero, to make a hundred thousand dollars in total.”  She explained.  “You will receive another payment of the same amount upon the safe return of my necklace.”  Frank's mouth fell open.  He eyed the envelopes suspiciously.

“That’s quite a bit of money, ma’am.”  He said, his mouth dry.  He knew he had lost the battle.  He knew that this scarlet painted ice queen had him, and that she was going to sic him on one of the most important shady characters that Frank knew about.  His eyes were still on the envelopes.

“Go ahead and check it.  I know you want to.”  He looked up and met her eyes.  “It’s alright.”  She smiled, then, but Frank was more reminded of a wild animal baring its fangs.

Frank reached greedily for the closer of the envelopes.  He felt its thickness, its weight and it seemed too good to be true.  He tore it open and dumps it to reveal stacks of crisp hundred dollar bills.  There were five of them, which meant if Ms. Lindsey Ballato was telling him the truth, then each of the stacks consisted of ten bills, which made sense.  He picked up one bound pile and peered at it.  The bills were the real deal and there were the correct amount to match what Lindsey told him.  Frank eyed the other envelope.  He felt the eyes of the woman across from him on his every move.  He’s not tactless enough to dump and count the second one, though he had to restrain himself.  He sat back to meet Ms. Ballato’s gaze.

“I’ll need a photograph of the stolen item and a way to contact Way.”  He said finally and Ms. Ballato’s sharp eyes glinted with pleasure in her triumph.  “As well as access to the safe where the necklace was stored.  You’re paying me well above my usual rate so you probably won’t incur any expense fees.”  Frank felt sick to his stomach as he said this.

“I’ll pay expenses.”  She said, but Frank barely heard her.  He only paid half attention as she told him to arrive at a particular address in a few hours, to examine the safe, and he watched her warily as she wrote him precise driving instructions for the way there.

Frank knew he was going to regret this.


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing that Frank Iero, private detective, did after taking the Ballato case was run to the bank.   He made a cash deposit of almost a hundred grand, keeping five hundred to have on hand.  Cash always spends and it was useful to be holding on to.  It was a hassle, depositing such a large amount in cash, but after much persuasion on Frank’s part it got done.

The second thing Frank did was write a bunch of checks, made out to various companies to which he owed money.  He sent them out in carefully addressed envelopes.

The next thing he did was go home to do some research on Gerard Way.  It was a little apartment, no formal work space, but it was affordable and it didn’t leak.  Frank made himself a cup of coffee.  He may or may not have quickly added what was perhaps a bit more alcohol to the mug than he should have.  He settled himself on his worn sofa, soft from wear but not ratty, with his laptop and his coffee.  It takes a while for the old machine to boot up and Frank waits somewhat impatiently, trying to focus on something in the room.  But not the mismatched thrift store furniture nor the messy piles of books, mixes of everything from religious texts to mystery novels that Frank can always figure out the answer to, nor the blank opposite wall can hold Frank’s attention.

When the laptop finally decides that it is ready to be coaxed into opening a browser that it really is not equipped to run, quick internet search told Frank that he was the elder son of wealthy people, and though he had no need to, he had gone into business and only increased – significantly increased – his fortune.  Frank skimmed bios that told him that Way dabbled in everything to real estate to agriculture to hospitality.  His every endeavor, apparently, turned to piles of gold.

Frank was too jaded to be impressed; he was only bitter that a man of such dubious reported character managed to have everything, while Frank had only a pile of papers, now destined for the shredder, that had only hours before meant he was in debt.

Of course, Frank’s reputation wasn’t exactly sterling either.

Frank read for over an hour, paying close attention to mentions of Way’s engagement to Ballato.  It had been a brief courtship, apparently, and it was rumored that Way only proposed to her out of familial pressures.  It was said that Way’s tastes in women did not run towards women at all.  Frank knew that feeling well.

But while Frank was no one, and therefore could do as he wished, Way was attractive and powerful and _public_ , which although granting him access to the secret fulfillment of his desires, made it completely unacceptable for him to have them publically.  Not when he was from _that_ kind of family.

Frank almost had to feel sorry for him, but he was sorrier for himself, for having decided to mess with this man of unfathomable power, even for two hundred thousand dollars.  He knew that Way didn’t make billions off of _real estate_.  Not even millions.  Everyone knew it, but it was known that it was ignored.

Frank didn’t have the luxury of ignoring the shadows that Gerard Way cast.  And he didn’t have the luxury of pretending that he did not understand that those shadows could make him disappear into their darkness.

He had to be crazy, agreeing to prove Gerard Way guilty of theft.  He pinched the bridge of his nose and looked at the clock.  He had told Ballato that he was going to come over and inspect the safe.  He considered telling her to forget it, but then he thought of the checks that had probably not even been picked up by the mailman, and how if Ballato took back her payment, each and every one of them would bounce like a kickball.

“Fuck.”  He muttered and he headed out the door, grabbing his black trench coat, and his hat.  A lot of things might suck about being a private eye, but Frank loved looking the part when he could.  Time to pay a visit to Ms. Ballato.

Not many people in the 21st century could appreciate the power of an image, Frank reflected as he attempted to physically bully his beat up Ford into properly obeying the command of his key in the ignition, especially not one as iconic as the Private Eye, the Holmes-like figure skulking in the shadows.  Of course, Frank could be discreet; he just preferred the aura of mystery and near-omniscience that tended to follow the “classic” detective.

Frank had to pound the dashboard a time or two before the engine finally caught.  He let out a loud, “Ha!” before sneering at the car and he promised himself that if he managed to get out of this one alive, he’d replaced the God-forsaken thing.  He allowed himself to fantasize about that as he followed the instructions Ms. Ballato had given him; it was better than dwelling on his probable impending doom, after all.  A Volkswagen, he thought, or something Japanese.  Nothing fancy, just well made, sturdy.  Roomy enough for him to live out of on long stake-outs.  Maybe able to tolerate the odd car chase.  The basics.

The drive to the address Ballato had given him was too short, though, and soon enough, he was back to dreading all sorts of terrifyingly plausible scenarios in which he disappeared without a trace, sometimes dead, sometimes worse.

And as for the address itself, it belonged to a house the likes of which Frank had never seen before, nor had even known existed in the area.  It was not excessively large, but it was grand and the grounds from what Frank could see, were enormous.

Frank smiled for a moment, picturing his childhood dog, Mama, running free across the expanse of lawn, and felt a pang of longing.  He missed the companionship of a pet, but had not had the money to keep one in a very long time.

Still, though, the thought cheered him and helped him level his mind, clearing the mental pictures of himself at the bottom of a private lake with bricks tied to his ankles, or hanging from the ceiling by his wrists being tortured.

He even managed a pleasant smile for the man who opened the front door when he knocked.  The man, dressed formally peered distastefully at Frank’s car, which he had carelessly parked.

“You must be the detective Ms. Ballato hired.”  The man said.  Frank’s teeth gritted behind his smile at the tone of voice the man used.  “She is expecting you.”

“Damn right, she is.”  Frank muttered and the other man’s lip curled as he nodded curtly.

“This way.”

He led Frank into the entryway.  Frank tried to do his best to observe everything while simultaneously ignoring his surroundings, because damned if he was going to allow himself to be distracted by wealth again, because that was what had gotten him into this fucked up mess of a job in the first place.

Even if the wealth was goddamned impressive.  Which it was.  Very much so.  Frank was so, so screwed.

He decided that thorough observation was crucial enough to warrant his paying attention.  Like he would have been able to not pay attention.  It might as well have been on his terms.  He looked around as he was lead through a hallway, nearly walking past the door being held open for him.

“Wait here, Sir.”  The man tells Frank.

Frank stumbled a little bit, jerked from his careful cataloguing of the house, but composed himself to walk through the door.  The room was well decorated, but empty of any persons.  It seemed a living room or something, only less used, less live in.  He set himself down to wait on a white leather sofa as the man who had led him there left, closing the door behind him.  Frank thought he heard a malicious snigger but he ignored it.  He began processing his surroundings all over again.

He searched the walls and floors and the corners and exits, his eyes wandering as he politely sat, logically presuming that the safe he was being shown was in the room he had been brought to.

A few moments later, Ms. Ballato entered the room.  She was dressed down from earlier, in a black miniskirt that Frank suspected was leather, and a deep purple tank top.  Her hair was down and her makeup less attention seeking and more subtle.  She was still dangerously beautiful.  He doubted she needed the chunky heels of her shiny black combat boots to crush a man.

“White leather is a bad choice, Lindsey.”  Frank told her by way of greeting, and she seemed appropriately thrown off.  “I can call you Lindsey, right?”  He smiled sweetly, contrasting his snarky tone, “Just between the two of us, right?”  She raised an eyebrow.  “Anyway, it’s all well and good for you rich ass weirdos,” he continued, jumping back to the topic of the sofa.  “But you never know when some less moneyed bastard is going to come in here and get it dirty.”  He smiled angelically as her face contorted with concern for her sofa.  He stood, not acknowledging the fact that the leather was as spotless as it was before his arrival.

“So which one is it?”  He asked as he watched her fail to fully mask her relief.  Her brow furrowed.  Frank grinned internally.  Keep her off-balance.  “That one by the piano?” he asked, pointing to the grand piano.  “Or the one where the wall meets the floor in that corner of the room?”  His finger moved to the direction of the corner in question.  “Or perhaps it’s the one behind the false back of the clock?”  He gestured to the grandfather clock.  He turned back to face his client, who looked pale.

“Or perhaps the necklace was stolen from one of the other two safes hidden in this purely decorative sitting room?”  He points to each of the locations in turn, watching Ms. Ballato’s face turn from white to red, then back to normal as she struggled to, but eventually managed to compose herself.

“How did you…?”  She began and Frank grinned again.  “Never mind.”  She said, determined to not give Frank the satisfaction.  “So you _are_ as good as they say you are.  Good.  I had wondered.”  She grinned right back at Frank.  She knew what he was doing and was determined to win the tug-o-war.

“However, you are incorrect.”  She said and Frank just managed to keep his face passive.

“Did I miss one, _Lindsey_?”  He challenged.

“No, but I would never keep such a precious object in room where I entertain guests.  You assumed you would be brought directly to the scene of the crime, and you were incorrect.”  Frank ignored the urge to roll his eyes; his own theatrics were alright, but he tired quickly of the melodrama of others.  He was going to have to get used to it, he supposed, working this particular case.

“The safe from which the necklace was taken,” Ms. Ballato says, “is in my bedroom.”  It seemed to Frank that a woman like this probably entertained more guests in her bedroom than this fancy room just for show, but he didn’t say that out loud.  He had some common sense after all.

He gestured in front of him.  “Ladies first, _Linds_.  Lead the way.”  He smiled again, innocently, as her face contorted.

And that was how Frank found himself following one of the most dangerous women he had ever met into her bedroom.


	3. Chapter 3

“You’re shitting me, right?” Frank asked, peering at the door of a safe, referring to the location of the aforementioned safe.

It had been painfully obvious to Frank upon entering the plush, dimly lit room.  The large white wooden vanity had looked perfectly natural with the rest of the décor, done in shades of creamy purple accented with white, but there were marks in the lavender carpet near the feet.  The plush fibers had been crushed and not returned to their original position.  Something heave had made those marks.  Frank had moved the vanity with surprising strength for such a small statured man to reveal the carpet underneath.  He knew Ms. Ballato had not been surprised, the vanity had been moved hastily into place, the safe was now empty, and access was needed to it, so Lindsey had clearly not bothered to conceal the entrance.

There was a small, nigh invisible, notch in the wall, but Frank bypassed it, instead running his fingers along the seam where the wall met the floor.  After a moment, he had found purchase in a piece of the border trim, which came away in his hand revealing the slimmest of gaps between the floor and wall.  That _had_ surprised her.  Frank had reveled in the victory of getting her to ask how he could have possibly known.  That had been the question to which he answered “You’re shitting me, right?”

He repositioned himself from an uncomfortable squat to kneeling on the floor.  He looked up at Lindsey.  “The notch on the wall was obviously a fake.”  Lindsey opened her mouth, but Frank held up a finger.  “Or, not a fake rather, but a decoy.”  Lindsey’s mouth closed.  “I assume that were I to attempt to open the first, not only would I find a replica of the necklace, but also, that should I try to remove the replica, I would receive some sort of bodily harm.”  Ms. Ballato nodded unable to speak.

“Now, I am sure I could force my way into the actual safe, but it would be much easier if you were to open it.”  Frank said, moving back, and the somewhat shell-shocked woman slid off the large bed, ruining the perfectly laid out lavender bedspread and came to her knees next to Frank.  She began to brush her fingers over the cleverly disguised door.  After a moment, there was an almost inaudible click.  Ms. Ballato slid her fingers into the tiny groove and pulled, lifting away a panel of floor, the seams cleverly hidden by the texture of the wood.

The safe was relatively small, but Frank could tell that it extended up into the wall behind it and under the floor around it, and if he, or rather, if Ms. Ballato, was to run her fingers across the walls, her prints would be read by yet more scanners, opening the other sections.  Frank was morbidly curious as to what would happen if he was to try it, but he’s not suicidal.  Really.  Despite the fact that he was allowing himself to be bullied into attempting to prove one of the most terrifying people he knew of guilty of theft.

It sounded weak to Frank, even in his own mind.

Anyway, the safe.  Small, but falsely so, and very empty.  There were little LED lights built into the walls that had gone on as soon as Ms. Ballato had opened the door, so Frank could see clearly exactly how very empty.

Ms. Ballato seemed on the verge of tears and Frank patted her shoulder awkwardly.  That seemed to push her over the edge.

“I’m sorry.”  She said, through tears, “This is just so overwhelming.”  Frank raised an eyebrow.  “He was always so wonderful to me, but he never…never _loved_ me and I thought it was just because he was only dating me because of his parents, you know?  But then I caught him with…I figured out that he was, _you know_ and it was like he just stopped pretending to try.  Like once I knew, he wasn’t going to pretend I didn’t.”  She let out a sob.  “But I never expected that he…he…”  Frank was almost unable to suppress the eye roll.  Waterworks don’t really affect him, it is not that he’s not compassionate, but this wasn’t crying, this was classic damsel in distress.

Frank wasn’t really a damsel kind of guy, _you know_?

“Alright, Lindsey,” he said as he stood up, forcing her to look up at him.  “I’m done here.”

She sniffled once, but pulled herself together nicely but believably, understanding that Frank knew she was faking but also not dropping the act.  “So soon?” She asked and he nodded and she too, stood.  Frank nodded in the affirmative.

“Well then, I’ll have you shown out.”  She said.

“I can show myself.”  He told her and turned to leave.  He strode from the room, glad to be out; he hadn’t realized how oppressively personal the bedroom had felt until he had left it.  As a detective, he was used to feeling intrusive, but something had felt so deeply, unsettlingly intimate about Lindsey Ballato’s bedroom.

Despite what he had said to Lindsey, the guy from earlier showed up at Frank’s side when he was just a few steps down the hallway.

“Have you finished your business here, Mr. Iero?”  He said, with barely concealed contempt under the proper tone of the question.

“Who even are you anyway?”  Frank asked rudely, walking quicker, not really caring about the answer.

“I am Ms. Ballato’s butler, of course.”  He said in a way that said it should be obvious to anyone.

“People still have those?”  Frank muttered and the butler guy sniffed indignantly.  “Do you have a name or something?”  The butler remained silent.  “I could find out, you know.”  Silence.  For that Frank was thankful.

He walked quickly and purposely back to the entrance of the house, the silent worker trailing a few steps behind him.  It was clear to Frank that the other man was sent by Lindsey to make sure he didn’t snoop, which made no sense to Frank.  The lady had _hired him_ to snoop, after all.  Fucking women.

Once he was out of the house and in his car he let the known facts of the case bounce around his head.  There was a necklace.  There was a safe.  The necklace resided in the safe.  The necklace was removed from the safe.  Lindsey Ballato was convinced that Gerard Way had done the removing.  Gerard Way was terrifying and powerful.  Lindsey Ballato was paying Frank lots of money to recover the necklace.  The necklace that Gerard Way had taken.

There was no way to construe it where there was a happy outcome for Frank.  Frank was just going to be very happy and very thankful if he managed to live through it.  By the time he was halfway back to his office, he had realized that his next step was to pay Way a visit.  He felt a little nauseous for the rest of the drive.

At his office, he searched for the address Lindsey had given him to find Way at.  There was also a phone number.  Frank debated calling it and making an appointment or something.  He chose not to.  He’d needed any advantage he could possibly have and the element of surprise was one of those few.  He figured that Way probably already knew that Lindsey had hired him, but there was no harm in at least trying for surprise.

Yeah there was.  There was harm in every facet of this fucking case.  Frank sighed and headed back out to his car.


	4. Chapter 4

“Can I… help… you?”  Came a soft, smooth woman’s voice from behind him.  Frank turned around to see who had spoken.  She had long auburn hair and giant green eyes framed in long lashes and eyeliner, high cheekbones and large full lips.  Her dress flowed down her frame like a waterfall, a very complimentary waterfall, and ended just above her knee.  It was the same shade as her eyes and it covered her modestly, but in a way that just barely hinted at what temptations it hid.  Very subtle, very sexy.

Very unimpressive to Frank.   Still it disoriented, and perhaps even flustered him a bit, to have a person, a stranger, so far into his personal space.  The woman half pushed, half guided him backwards and down into a typical lobby waiting chair.  She followed him down, climbing into his lap, wedging her knees between the outsides of his thighs and the metal armrests.

“My name is Audrey.”  She said, putting her hands on his chest.  “What can we do for you today?”  Frank found his voice, previously lost somewhere in his confusion.  So that was what Way did to make money.  Frank internally swore at Lindsey for sending him here of all places that he could have met Way.  There were any number of offices where Way worked, addresses all available online, but Lindsey had sent him here.  It only took him an extra fraction of a second to understand that it had been deliberate, that Lindsey had been subtly giving him information that he needed, that this helped his case.  That this was the missing information.

Gerard Way sold sex in the form of high class hookers.

“I – I’m not here for that.”  He cleared his throat, but Audrey was already backing off, the warm seductiveness cooling off into a business tone.

“So you’re here to see Mr. Way, then.”  She said with just a hint of a coy smile.

“Yes.”  Frank replied, before he realized what Audrey was insinuating.  He was about to take it back when he thought better of it.  “Yeah.”  He said, more confidently.  “My name is Frank.”  Audrey nodded.

“Mr. Way’s office is upstairs.  Follow me please.”  Frank followed Audrey to a line of elevators, and watched as Audrey pushed the ‘up’ arrow button.  They were on the fifth floor, out of six.  However when they elevator arrived, there was no button labeled with a six.  Instead, Audrey hit an unlabeled button and an intercom panel crackled to life.

“This is Audrey Valentine with a guest for Mr. Way.”  Audrey said in a clipped tone.

“Come on up.”  Buzzed the reply and the elevator started moving.

“Mr. Way owns this building, but only operates out of the top two floors.”  Audrey explained as the elevator arrived and opened.  Frank nodded for her to keep talking.  “This floor is the executive suite, where Mr. Way does his thing; the next one is for other business stuff, including a small medical clinic.  We’re very cautious about health here.  He rents the other floors out.”  Frank let her chatter, mentally noting anything that might later become important.

The floor looks every bit the executive suite of a wealthy, over glorified "businessman".  Everything is tasteful, too tasteful.  There is no personal charm or quirk.  The space they are in is some kind of lounge or waiting area, chairs and sofas and coffee tables in shades modern black and white, all decorative angles and shapes.  Two walls opposite each other on the right and left are all floor to ceiling windows and the view is breathtaking cityscape.  Behind Frank was the row of elevators, the wall between each of them mirrored.  The ceiling was also mirrored, and the lights were soft halogen bulbs as opposed to standard fluorescent.  Ahead of Frank was white wall, with wide black double doors in the center.  It was through those that Audrey led him.

Through them was another room, decorated similarly, but on the opposite of this room there were two sets of doors.  Here there was a desk behind which a man with short blonde hair and stubble.  He looked up when he heard Frank and Audrey enter.

“Miss Valentine.”  He acknowledged, and Frank recognized his voice as the one from the elevator.

“Mr. Bryar.”  Audrey answered with a nod.  “This is Frank…?”  She looked at Frank.

“Iero.  Frank Iero.”  Frank supplied and Audrey turned back to the man behind the desk.

“This is Mr. Frank Iero, here to… _see_ Mr. Way.”  She finished.  The man, this apparent Mr. Bryar, grunted.

“I’d like to see a current photo ID if that’s alright?”  He asked and Frank dug out his driver’s license, carefully concealing his PI credentials.  The man “hmphed” and Frank grinned good naturedly, as if he was in fact here to… _see_ Mr. Way and that _seeing_ people was a thing he did all the time and was comfortable with.  Frank glimpsed a name plate the read “Robert Bryar, Chief Security Officer”

At that moment a slim, frazzled looking man came through the set of doors on the right.  He had glossy dark hair to his shoulders and bright eyes.  He wore a suit and, to Frank’s surprise, looked overall, quite pretty.  Not Frank’s type, but he could see the attraction.

“Did I hear someone come in?”  He asked, unnecessarily because he clearly saw Frank and Audrey in front of him, Frank reaching out to take his license back from the security man.  “Miss Valentine, who is this?”  He asked.

“This is Mr. Frank Iero, here for Mr. Way.”  She answered.  “Sir.”

“Please don’t call me Sir, Miss Valentine.  You may go.”  He said, not in a friendly tone, but not unkindly either.  She nodded and left.  The man turned to Frank.  Frank, who had just finished putting away his license in his wallet met the other’s gaze.

“That was quick.”  The man said with hints of relief in his voice...  “I’m Bert McCracken, Gerard’s – Mr. Way’s – personal everything.  I’m glad you were able to come at such short notice.  He’s meeting with his brother right now, and he’ll be quite stressed by the time Mikey leaves.”  Frank nodded noncommittally.

As if on cue, raised voices drifted through the wall.  Frank couldn’t make out all of what was being said but he listened as best he could

“Goddamn it, Gerard… _honestly_ I don’t…with you!  She’s…Up to something!”

“Stay out…It doesn’t fucking concern you!...What happened between…and there’s nothing that I can…So fucking butt out!”  Frank watched Bert the pretty personal assistant cringe and watch Frank’s reactions.  Frank was carefully neutral.  He gave nothing to indicate that he cared at all about this conversation, nothing to indicate that he was not simply here to…relieve Mr. Way’s stress.

The set of doors on the left flew open and an angry man stormed through them.  He stopped to appraise Frank.  He turned to call over his shoulder.

“Gerard! One of your little whores is here.”  He turned to Frank.  “My brother is a slut.”  He warned.  “He surrounds himself with pretty men,” he gestured to Bert who made a rude hand gesture that the angry man couldn’t see.  “And he tunes out fucking reality.”  The man snarled, taking Frank slightly aback with his hostility.  “So go in there and kiss it _all better_ for him so that he can pretend that he doesn’t see it coming when someone _stabs_ him from behind.”  Frank almost flinched as the man finished and marched off past him, but he managed to hold it back.

So even the mighty Gerard Way had enemies, it seemed.  Enemies that his brother seemed to be trying to warn him of.  Interesting.  Frank made a mental note to do more research on Michael Way.

The room was shell shocked into silence.  None of the three men present spoke or moved until from the open doors, softly stepped a man.  Not tall, though taller than Frank, with dark hair that fell to his chin and framed his face, dressed in black slacks and a white shirt opened at the top with the sleeves rolled to his elbows.  He smiled at Frank, gently and a bit disturbingly.

“Hello.  I’m Gerard Way.”


End file.
